


The Morning After: A Brief Conversation

by mirajanihiggins



Series: The Morning After [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, Insecurity, John Cooks, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Morning After, aggressive sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 10:23:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13588080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirajanihiggins/pseuds/mirajanihiggins
Summary: Sherlock and John's morning after the night before...





	The Morning After: A Brief Conversation

The bedroom door creaked open, barely audible over the sound of frying bacon. John tried his best to ignore it as he poked at the crinkling meat in his pan. Grease spatters decorated the front of his apron, which he had put on solely to protect his robe from just such an assault.

 

“Um, John?” a deep voice said, tentatively, from down the short hallway. John smiled to himself as he flattened a particularly recalcitrant strip into submission. “Yes, Sherlock?” he asked, deliberately casual.

 

The pad of bare feet took a couple of steps, then stopped. “John, did something... _happen_ last night?”

 

John’s dimples came out as he suppressed a cheeky grin. “Yes, Sherlock.”

 

Another couple of quiet steps and the rustle of a sheet at the entrance to the kitchen. “Did you...stay in my room last night?”

 

John closed his eyes as he chuckled to himself. Sherlock Holmes, the great detective…”Yes, Sherlock,” he replied. His voice was still blandly agreeable.

 

“In my bed?” A step into the kitchen, a re-situating of sheets.

 

A nod of a blond-grey head. He did not acknowledge Sherlock’s presence in the room, still focusing on his pans of eggs and bacon. “Yes, Sherlock.”

 

Another scurry forward, excitedly. “With _me_?” He was almost behind John now.

 

John was having difficulty containing his laughter at the mixture of fear and hope in that melodic voice. “Ye-e-es, Sherlock.” With barely a turn of his head, “You were _there_ , weren’t you?” he asked, in all innocence.

 

Another quiet step. A looming figure wrapped in white cotton stood directly behind him now, half-a-head taller and with dark, curly hair that desperately needed a comb. “Ye-e-es, but I wanted to make sure...”

 

“That we had sex last night, Sherlock?” John could barely maintain his composure. He dug his fork into the scrambled eggs, whirling them around the old cast-iron pan with a hiss of metal on metal.

 

“Mm hm.”

 

John finally laughed out loud. “The answer is yes, Sherlock. Yes, we _did_ have sex last night.”

 

The figure moved forward until he was touching the smaller man. A chin came to rest on John’s shoulder as Sherlock said quietly, directly into John’s ear, “Can we do it again?”

 

A chuckle escaped John’s lips as he turned to look, side-eyed, at Sherlock. “Of course, we can, but let’s have some breakfast first, shall we?”

 

A pair of long hands slid around John’s waist and pulled him backwards just a bit into a hug. “Breakfast is boring. Sex is not. ”

 

“Careful, you! You’ll get burned by the bacon!”

 

“Don’t care,” Sherlock murmured, kissing and nuzzling at John’s neck and ear. “Not hungry, anyway.” He carefully caught John’s ear pinna in between his teeth and gnawed at it. John hissed in surprise and arousal. “At least, not for food.”

 

“God help me, I’ve created a monster,” John faux-lamented, as he turned off the burners and prepared to put the food on some nearby plates. There was a deep chuckle behind him that he could feel vibrating through his back.

 

“Come back to bed, John,” Sherlock coaxed him, his voice seductive, as he attempted to drag John backwards toward the bedroom.

 

“Sherlock! Stop that! At least, eat something first!” John squawked at him, waving a spatula in the direction of the pans on the stove.

 

“Mmm, exactly my intentions, John.” The backwards pressure continued, dragging John out of his slippers, which stood there, as if ready to serve. “I want to make sure I wasn’t dreaming again last night!”

 

“You weren’t, in case you didn’t notice the love bite on your... _stop dragging me!_ ” John protested, half-heartedly, as Sherlock kept walking backward, with his prey tightly bound by his naked arms, toward the bedroom hallway.

 

“No,” he refused, firmly.

 

“Sherlock!”

 

“Shut up, John. This is for a scientific study.”

 

John’s struggling feet disappeared inexorably around the corner. “ _It is not_!” he yelled, half-annoyed and half-amused.

 

Long-suffering sigh. “John, you have absolutely _no_ academic curiosity whatsoever, have you? There is so _much_ to be tried, so _many_ experiments, all those _permutations_...”

 

Farther down the hallway, there was a grunt and the sound of something being thrown bodily upon the bed. “Oof! Now _that_ was uncalled for!”

 

“You are the most _difficult_ subject, John. If you would just _cooperate_...”

 

The door began to creak slowly closed.

 

“And I don’t, for _one moment_ , think that you were _ever_ a fucking virgin…!”

 

“ _That_...is a contradiction in terms, John…now, hush.”

 

 **Thump**. _Click_.

 

Breakfast was never served.


End file.
